


All the World's a Stage

by turante



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turante/pseuds/turante
Summary: Moriarty had never liked comedies; his life was made for tragedies like those written by the great classic authors.





	All the World's a Stage

[ _An explosion. Exit Moriarty. Enters Mycroft with attendants. Exeunt, carrying the unconscious John and Sherlock_ ]

 

It did not take long for Moriarty to realise his mistake. He hadn’t been a good director: he left the scene too early, didn’t make certain that the ending came to be the one he had written before the curtains closed.

It would have been his masterpiece; it contained all the elements of a great play: plot twists, betrayal, fights, love. It was the great tragedy of life played out for his entertainment on the great stage of London.

But the ending was wrong. The hecatomb he had planned had been ruined by a cheap plot device.

 _'Deus Ex Mycroft'_ , his second had named the intervention of the elder Holmes.

A bloody nuisance, that’s what it was. All he knew was that he needed to rewrite the ending, to rewrite the play entirely, because he didn’t like repeat performances, not for what he felt was the last show.

He had never liked comedies; his life was made for tragedies like those written by the great classic authors. Didn’t he feel like Oedipus at times? Wasn’t he King Lear, on the run with his fool now? Didn’t he have the ambition and ruthlessness of Lady MacBeth? Didn’t he possess the cruelty of Medea?

Now Mycroft Holmes had ruined his play, stolen a costume and sneaked on the stage, changed the lines and played God in a place where only he, the scriptwriter, was supposed to.

Moriarty plotted vengeance like Hamlet, hidden in the shadow under the stage, prepared the perfect trap and set it. He knew what to use as bait, only needed to get it.

He wrote a new play, because he had another player now, an actor who didn’t know he was even playing his lines now, but who’d be much more interesting once he realised.

He had a fresh plan, and a new tragedy written only for him.

Mycroft Holmes.

The only one deserving to be his nemesis. And a good nemesis gets killed in the final act, not sooner.

Sherlock was not important anymore. He was expendable, and Jim had no more games to play with him. 

The consultant detective could die, gloriously, in the third act, and his faithful pet along with him, to thicken the plot.

It was a brilliant play, the one he had written this time, perfect and complex. Now all that was left for him to do was to prepare the scenery and costumes.

 

[ _Enter Moriarty and Sherlock_ ]

 

“This time there won’t be a chance for your brother to come and rescue you,” Moriarty said, playfully, as he and Sherlock cautiously circled each other.

“I took every precaution not to be followed by him,” Sherlock replied, calm and coldly calculating.

“How very foolish of you. But it’s good, because you’ll work better as bait if you’re dead,” Jim said, sweetly, getting closer and closer to him until they were inches apart.

“No explosions this time?” Sherlock asked, slowly reaching for the gun he had on him.

“I don’t like repeat performances,” he said, reaching for his own weapon. “Time to end the third act, Sherlock,” he announced, "sadly, you won't make it past the intermission."

 

[ _Exit Moriarty_ ]


End file.
